the 48th annual hunger games
by Loves2ReadandStuff
Summary: this isn't a "create a tribute" thing. this is just part of a story I made up with my own tribute. Yeah, I know it looks like a lot of writing but I hope you read it anyway.
1. Chapter one: The Reaping

Disclaimer, I do not own the hunger games! Suzanne Collins does. I own these characters because I made them up. This is just a little part of a bigger fan fiction I'm writing.

Chapter 1: the Reaping

I was going to die. Just like the rest of them. Never did it cross my mind that it would all come down to this. Not in a million years. Running through the woods would be my only shot. Everything that could have protected me was gone. Now speed will either make me or break me. There was no time to think. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me as I dodged branches and leaves. My dark brown hair flew wildly behind me. The sharp thorns and leaves pounded against my flesh leaving bloody scratches all over my thin body. All over I could hear the sound of splintering wood and chainsaws but above all of it, I could hear my beating heart pounding against my rib cage. Never again will I disobey my mother's orders. Never. Suddenly, I heard a loud boom behind me and I knew it was over.

"Mom? Dad?" I whispered into the smog. There was no answer "Mom! Dad!" still nothing. "MOMMY! DADDY!" I cried, sobbing. I jolted from my bed, covered in sweat and tears. All the wind was knocked out of me.

"Piper…?" I heard a little voice say. The heavy oak door creaked open and there I saw my cousin, Laver's cute little face. His wide grey eyes examined me carefully. "Piper? Are you okay?"

I glanced around, making sure that I'm home and not in that horrible part of the woods. Everything was in place. The two scratched up beds were there along with its lumpy mattresses. The lamp that was on the only bedside table. The peeling paint was all over the floor. I was home, safe and sound, but those chainsaws I heard and those branches. They were so _vivid_. With one last look around, I got up from the bed. "Don't worry Laver. I just had a bad dream that's all." I brushed my hair out of my eyes and studied Laver, who was still standing there. "Oh, I almost forgot. Happy Hunger Games." The expression on Laver's face went from worried to horrified in less than a second.

"Piper, what will happen? I mean what will happen if you go?" He said, his voice wavering "What will happen if you have to fight in that horrible arena?" Tears began to run down his cheeks. "What will happen if you don't come back?"

I quickly ran over to Laver and stooped down at his level until I was eye to eye with him. "Look, there are hundreds of other girls that could go. I think I'm staying district seven this year."

"But, but there's always that chance." Laver sobbed.

My green eyes began to water. "I know," Laver gave me a serious look, his eyes looking into my soul. He knew that my name was in that crystal sphere 12 more times than all the other girls that are my age in district 7. He knew that I might go. But I wasn't about to tell him. At least not yet. Laver gave me a firm hug then left to let me change. He sort of lingered in the door for a while before leaving, as if he wanted to say something.

I dragged myself over to the chest where I kept my clothes and pulled out a green dress. As I slid it on I could feel the finest of the silk. I ran my fingers over the embroidered yellow flowers on the skirt. This was what the people of the capitol must feel every day. Luxury. Everything they had was luxurious, from the clothes they wore to the food they eat. To the cars they drove and the buildings they see. Yes, they lived the perfect life. And honestly, I don't think they appreciate it at all. Most of the people there never been to an outlying district. Their whole world was that region they call the Rockies. When they come home and say "Gosh, I'm absolutely starving." They go into their cupboards and grab food easily. They don't know what starving is. They don't know what it means to starve. They don't know how it feels to go without food for days and they don't know what it means to work for your food. None of them understand. The only time they ever saw someone who was starving was in the Hunger games. But even then, they just stood up and cheered.

Examining myself in a shard of mirror I found in a trash can, I did my hair in a ponytail that lied over my right shoulder. For some reason, I loved the way it looked on me and I love the convenience to. It was never in my face, which was good because I never had time to deal with trivial matters like hair. I put down the mirror and entered the kitchen, which was really a just stove and a pot. My cousin was there waiting with my Aunt Hemlock, who was dressed in less raggedy clothes than usual. "My word, Piper. You look absolutely stunning." She said in a soft tone. "You look so much like your mother when she was your age."

I looked better than normal, I'll have to agree. But I've seen a picture of my mother when she was 15 and I look nothing like her. First off, I don't have fair grey eyes. Second, I don't have her beautiful wheat colored hair. I have my dad's eyes and hair. Maybe I have my mom's facial features but I don't know. It's been so long since the accident. I can't remember.

Laver gave me another worried face then said "Why do I have to wear this suit? I mean I'm only ten. I won't be going to the reaping. "

"It's a respect thing." Aunt Hemlock murmured, teasing Laver's hair. She glanced up at me with a big smile on her face but I could see the anxiety in her eyes. There was no hiding it. "I have some eggs on the stove, Piper. Help yourself."

I was just about to ask her where she got the eggs, but I decided that it wasn't worth asking. Most likely she wouldn't answer. The eggs on the stove smelled delicious, yet the butterflies in my stomach ruined my appetite. "What time is it?" I asked stiffly.

"It's eleven o'clock." Aunt Hemlock answered. "Why do you ask?"

Usually, I don't want to know what time it is on reaping day because it seems like a time bomb counting the seconds until the reaping. "I want to visit a friend before the reaping," I murmured "I'll be back by one. Okay?" she gave me a slight nod, then I left.

Just down the street lived my best friend Ivy, a hopeless girl with an abysmal predicament. One day back in first grade, I was skipping down the hallway with my books and I saw that she dropped a big file of coloring pages. So I decided to help her out. When we were finish picking up the papers I said "Do you want to be best friends?" and she asked "Bestest Friends?". I gave her a great big nod and we've be best friends ever since. It's sort of funny how when you're young you can just ask people to be your friend. Now you have to prove yourself.

I approached her front door and even before I could knock, she was there standing in the door way. "Oh my gosh, thank god you came." she whispered-yelled "I really wanted to see you before the reaping." Ivy took my arm. "Come on," She took me up to her bedroom, with so much stealth, that I had a hard time noticing she was there. I sat down on her bed as she gave me the news "Piper, Mom and Dad- well you see- they… umm… couldn't find-uh… away to get any food. You know they work Piper, but the..uh alcohol addiction is getting worse. They're spending- you know- our money on, well alcohol. Now I have t-to take the tesserae."

I have always considered my life to be a tragedy. My mother and father died in an accident, when a tree was cut down and they were in its timber zone as we call it. They were crushed instantly. The peacekeepers left me with my aunt and cousin who were bound to die within weeks if they didn't eat. But now, I think that your parent's not caring for you and willing to let you died is worse than them being dead. Ivy's parent's used to be much more wealthier than me. But ever since they got into alcohol, they began to spend all of their money on beer. It would be Ivy's first time with tesserae. No wonder she feels scared. Basically, tesserae is a unfair system that makes the poor more eligible to go into the games. One tesseae is grain and oil for one person for a month. The more tesserea you have the more your name is put into the crystal sphere where the tributes will be chosen. I have two tresserae under my belt, which means my name was entered 16 times in the drawing. Which mean the more likely I'll get chosen for the games. I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's alright, most likely you won't get chosen." There was no doubt in my mind that Ivy could win the Hunger Games. She was stealthy and a good thief. She'll learn how to use a weapon quickly enough.

"Piper, you're the greatest friend anyone could have." She murmured. "It's one o'clock. You'd better be getting back home."

With a reluctant goodbye, I trudged home. It was only an hour before the reaping would begin. An hour that I absolutely dreaded. I walked in the door with a sullen look and noticed that my aunt and cousin were already to go. "Do we have to go now?" I muttered.

Aunt Hemlock hurried Laver out the door. "Yes, or the peacekeepers will cut our throats out."

None of us said a word as we walked towards the square. Every day, the square would be filled with nosy store clerks and busy shoppers. But not today. Today, it was dead silent. The only sounds there I could hear was the heavy sighs of the children and someone sobbing. I made my way towards the fifteen year old section with no expression on my face. The girls that were there were dress in pretty outfits just like me but through the makeup, there were traces of misery just like me. up on the stage sat three people. To the right was the mayor, in the middle was Monica Elk, the district seven escort, and to the left was Jace Kenton, a past victor and this year's tribute mentor. I got to my spot just as the bell rung from the tower.

Monica Elk stood up and spoke into the microphone, with her ridiculous capitol accent. "Welcome, District Seven, to the 48th annual Hunger Games Reapings!" she did this weird clap when she just patted the palm of her hand really fast. No one joined her. Dismissing the silence she continued "Now, let's start off with a brief history of the Hunger Games! As I'm sure you all know, the Hunger Games is a completion where the lucky tributes from each district, will get a chance to win fame and fortune. But the Hunger Games didn't just start over night. Oh no! it started back when the rebellion was almost over. When our brilliant president finally ended the war, by getting rid of district 13. And now, he let children have a chance to show all of Panem how talented you all are by introducing the Hunger Games! What away to give back!"

I didn't quite understand how getting rid of district 13 had to do with showing off our talents to the world, but maybe I'm too naïve to understand. "Now, it's time to pick out our female tribute!" She squealed into the microphone. With one manicured hand she picked out a slip of paper from the sphere. Her face lit up as if she won a million dollars. "Piper Fairburn!" She shouted into the microphone.


	2. Chapter 2: Goodbyes

I could feel all the air in my body escape from my lungs as I stumbled up to the stage. Monica Elk gave me her stupid capitol smiles and I took my place, looking over the hundreds of faces. Most of the girls looked relived to not be in my position. Though I saw Ivy burst into tears. Her sobs rung through the square but she didn't dare cover them up. Laver hid his face in Aunt Hemlock's side with his shoulders moving up and down rapidly. And Aunt Hemlock herself, she didn't make a sound. She just stroked Laver's hair sympathetically, with worry in her eyes. I couldn't help but gasp for air to calm myself. This was just so overwhelming. I didn't have a chance in the games. I'm not stealthy like Ivy and I never held a weapon in my life. Well, I did hold a knives a lot but did that really count? Either way, I've never killed anyone with one before.

"Now," Monica said into the microphone. "Are there any volunteers?" No one in the crowed moved except Ivy and Laver who were mourning my death. "No? Well let's give a round of applause to Piper!" She did her clap again but no one joined her. A groan from the crowd suggested that they just wanted to get this over with. "Now for our male tribute!" She reached into the crystal sphere and removed a neatly folded piece of paper "Lucas Devril! " Just then another burst of sobs came from the back as he took his place. His parent's I'm guessing, but their faces were cover by a row of people. The boy didn't look anything special. His normal dirty blond hair and normal grey eyes was the look of an average district seven citizen. He had a normal build and a normal height. At least that that's one person I don't have to worry about. "Volunteers?" Monica Elk asked for the final time. When there was no answer she said " Anyone who would like to visit these fine young people before they head to the capitol must line up in front district building and be escorted in by a peacekeeper. " Monica quickly glanced over to the sobbing citizen before continuing. "Thank you for attending this year's Reaping," as if we had a choice "And to our tributes… may the odds _ever_ be in your favor!"

The peacekeepers grabbed my arm tight then lead me into the district building and into an elegant room. The floor and walls were made of marble. The furniture was made of only the most expensive wood that was cut in district 7, Holly. Large windows let light stream in on the sparkling vases of fresh roses that were around the room. The curtains and cousins in the room were constructed with the finest velvet that was dyed green. I sat down on one of the lounge chairs uncomfortably as I thought about how I'll never see district 7 again. Not even if I win. If I win I'll get to live in Victor Village, where all the victors lived. There, I would live in a mansion and have enough food to feed all of district 7. I wouldn't be able to visit the _real_ district seven because the village was fenced in so no one can come in or come out without special permission.

The huge holly doors burst open and Laver came rushing in. He run up and grabbed me so hard that I had a really hard time breathing. Lavers words were muffled by tears but still knew what he was saying. He was saying goodbye for good. He looked up at me with wide eyes, still clutching me for dear life. "Piper, promise me that you'll win! Promise me that you'll come home again! Say it!" he grabbed my arm. "I want to see you again! I want to see you again in real life! Not on the horrible television screen!" No matter how much I wanted to tell him I'll come home, I still knew that it wasn't possible. He knew that to. He just didn't want to admit it.

"I'll try, Laver." I whispered, giving him a firm hug. "I'll really try. I mean really, _really_ try."

"No! I want you to promise me that you will win!" He yelled, tugging my arm in frustration.

I stared into his eyes. "I can't promise you that." I muttered slowly "But I'll promise that every night I'll think of you. I promise that every night, I'll say a prayer asking to protect you and to protect Aunt Hemlock."

"How about you?" Laver asked. He began to calm down but his eyes were still filled with tears.

"I'll pray for myself too," I gave him a kiss on his forehead and asked him "Laver, can you promise me something?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to promise me that you'll be brave. You need to be strong for Aunt Hemlock and for yourself."

He looked in my eyes before giving me a slight nod. "You'll be brave in the games right?" he asked as his final question.

"I'll be as brave as I need to be." I replied. I turned my attention to Aunt Hemlock, who was quietly waiting for her turn outside the door. Her face was completely blanched and he eyes were glossy. Cautiously, she entered the room.

"Piper, there is no doubt in my mind that you'll win the hunger games. I was lucky enough to see you grow up to the lovely young lady that you are. And I think that all you will need is a knife and a brain to win the games. Your Mother and Father wanted me to give you this." Aunt Hemlock, rummaged through her pocket and found a silver necklace. There was a heart shaped pendant on it. She wearily clasped it around my neck. "There, the pendant opens up you know." I looked down and snapped the pendant open. Inside, there was a picture of my mother and another picture of my father. They were looking back at me with smiles on their faces. My eyes began to blur with tears. "I hope you like it." Aunt Hemlock added.

I gave Aunt Hemlock a big hug. "Oh, I can't believe it,"

Aunt Hemlock gave me a weary smile before the peacekeeper said that it was time to go. Though I held on to her with my dear life, "Can you promise me that you'll try to feed Laver?" I asked Aunt Hemlock.

"I'll try, dear." She muttered under her breath and she left the room with Laver in her arms.

I sat in that lonely room for an hour before Ivy rushed in. Her makeup formed black streaks on her face as she was wiping the tears away. That prim face I'm so familiar with was all blotchy. Even her dress was covered in tears. She walked sullenly into the room with a grim expression, but didn't dare hold back her tears. "Piper, I want you to know that you're the besest friend anyone could have. I think that you could win the games if you really tried and you just need to get your hands on a knife. Your brain can do the rest of the work. " Her grey eyes scanned me for expression. "Piper, I want you to do me a favor."

"What?"

"I want you to change the rules of the game."

I looked at her, utterly confused. "But Ivy, there are no rules. How can I change something that was never there in the first place?"

"There are rules, they just aren't written or formally approved. Look at the hunger games right now. All they do is kill each other weapons. But I want you to try and change that."

"Try to not kill anyone?"

"No." She replied "Show them a different way to kill using this." She gestured towards her brain.

"Okay, kid time's up!" the peacekeepers yelled. They burst into the room and seized Ivy, dragging her out of the room

"But-" Ivy began, ripping her arm away from their grasp.

"No! Get out of here before I am forced to cut your tongue off." The peacekeeper bellowed, again grabbing Ivy's arm impolitely. He gave me a good look before shoving Ivy out the door. Again I'm alone in silence. Not daring to make a noise. All I could do was think about the pain that was about to come. The knives the will cut my thought, or the starvation I'll have to get through, or maybe the arrows that will enter my body. So many things that could kill me and the worst part of it was… having the whole world against you. I know for a fact that in that arena, nothing matters more than surviving. Whatever that may take. There is no love, there are no friendships, there are no morals. Killing is second nature in the arena and survival is the first. Without morals everyone is against you, not just other nature and the competitors. It's the Capitol and the tribute's families. Each district is against each other even. The only people who will matter are the sponsors and your family. No on else.

I waited there for another hour before the peacekeepers moved me to the train station where the presses were waiting. News anchors were happily announcing the "lucky" tributes to the world. I heard my name all as they talked about how "great" this year's hunger games will be. But, nothing made any sense. How can watching people die be entertainment? Doesn't it just remind you of dying yourself? Maybe the Capitol people are just idiots. I guess I'll never know because I would die too young to understand. I glanced at Lucas Devril just to see his expression. Stiffness and worry were written all over his face. His grey eyes danced over the faces of reporters as we were both lead into the train, roughly. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. He looked like a nice kid, an innocent kid. He didn't deserve to go to the hunger games, nor did I. Nor did anyone who went to the hunger games before us and anyone who will go to the hunger games after us. If the Capitol wanted a Hunger Games then why don't they just put criminals in the arena? At least they did something to displease the nation. But as Aunt Hemlock always said "Don't cry over spilled milk," so it's no use even thinking about it. I was going to die in the Hunger Games. And there's nothing I could do about it.


End file.
